


Ask and I'll Obey

by Madalynn_Bohemia



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Begging, Daddy Kink, Dirty Talk, M/M, Touch-Starved, challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-15
Updated: 2014-08-15
Packaged: 2018-02-13 07:14:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2141931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Madalynn_Bohemia/pseuds/Madalynn_Bohemia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“So, tell me what you want?” The younger boy demanded, and Louis’ mind filled with inappropriate images of Harry. Everything to do with Harry.</i>
</p>
<p>  <i>“I…” He couldn’t think. Could barely breathe, and his dick was so fucking hard in his track pants he didn’t know why Harry wasn’t pointing it out.</i></p>
<p>  <i>“You…have to do whatever I say for a whole day.” Louis blurted out.</i></p>
<p>  <i>“Deal.” Harry said without missing a beat, his green eyes shining like the light in The Great Gatsby. His easy agreement had Louis groaning, because Harry already did whatever Louis told him to do.<i></i></i></p>
<p>  <i><br/><i>Or, the one where Harry and Louis challenge each other not to get off to see who will break first.</i></i><br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	Ask and I'll Obey

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this for a lovely lady on Tumblr, without which, this would not exist :D

Louis loves touring, but sometimes, he really fucking hates it. The closed quarters. Living out of a suitcase that becomes just a pile of dirty clothes far too often. He hates being in enclosed spaces. Never really getting to enjoy the freedom of being outside for too long. It’s always from the bus, to the venue, and then back to the bus with a few interviews in between as a change in scenery.

And then there’s the awkwardness. The lack of privacy that boys their age require for…personal reasons. It’s disturbing, just how much he knows about the other lads and their needs. He could write a book about it. A whole series that would probably get picked up as a shitty film, eventually.

The bus is far from quiet, even at two in the bloody morning, and Louis is regretting that he didn’t charge his mobile so he could plug in his headphones and listen to some music. In the bunk across from his, Zayn is doing that really loud mouth-breathing thing that occurs in his sleep whenever he’s exhausted, which is pretty much always. Niall is still keyed up. Unable to relax after the gig earlier and strumming his guitar in the makeshift lounge at the back. It doesn’t bother anyone, and Liam is able to sleep straight through it if his snores are anything to go by. 

The humming of the engine always plays in the background, adding to the cacophony, and Louis is able to drown it out easily, but…

Above him, Harry keeps shifting restlessly, and not the way he usually does when he sleeps. It’s more…purposeful, and Louis tries not to groan, because he somehow knows exactly what he’s about to do. He strains his ears, not sure why, but it gets unnaturally quiet in Harry’s bunk, as if he’s listening. Waiting.

Louis hears him take in a shuddering breath, and fuck, he’s touching himself. It’s obvious. Well, obvious to him. Harry’s never been good at keeping quiet when it comes to physical things, and the fact that Louis is aware of this is proof that he’s spent way too much time being in close quarters with him to recognize what he sounds like when he’s rubbing one off. 

Harry’s shitty excuse of a bed creaks in protest with his movements, and he goes still, keeping quiet to gage if anyone’s heard him. Louis evens out his breathing, doesn’t know why he wants Harry to continue undisturbed. He should punch the slats above him. Tell the younger man to take it into the toilets where he can have some semblance of privacy. Where Louis doesn’t have to hear it.

But he doesn’t do that. Stays still, instead. 

Above him, Harry’s breath hitches and stutters, a low whine escaping his throat before it’s abruptly cut-off, and all is quiet again. Louis swears he can hear his heart beating in his ears. A loud pounding that stretches out time. Thirty seconds pass. Fifty, and then Harry’s moving once more, the sound of flesh on flesh burning itself into Louis’ ears. He’s careful in the beginning. Keeps the rustling to a minimum, but as it drags on he gets careless. 

Louis can hear the way the sheets shift, Harry’s hips thrusting up to meet his fist, no doubt. He can see it imprinted behind his eyes when he closes them. The way Harry’s curls would be matted to his forehead, weighed down by sweat. How his lids would flutter over green irises nearly blown black as he became assaulted with pleasure. Harry’s white teeth sinking into the bottom of his bright red lip…

He’s huffing now, close to the edge and of course Louis knows his rhythm as if it were his own. His hand almost aches to match the movement, and he’s so hard between his legs it’s painful. This is why he hates touring. This. The proximity, letting him in to vulnerable moments like this. Making him want things he shouldn’t-

But he does.

Harry’s sounds are muffled now, and Louis just knows he has one hand wrapped around his cock and the other covering his own mouth, as if it’ll help. And that shouldn’t make such a nice picture. It shouldn’t make Louis’ heart beat faster.

Liam chokes on a snore, changing position in his bunk before starting up again and Harry lets out a quiet whine before he simply stops. Louis could punch Liam in the larynx right now. Instead, he takes the opportunity to sneak his hand down, past his stomach and the waistband of his sweats. He almost cries when he encircles his length, but manages to reign himself in.

Above him, Harry is still motionless, and the soft notes of Niall’s guitar float in as if this were all a dream.

Louis wants to yell at Harry. Tell him to finish what he started. Show him the similar problem he’s aroused in him. He doesn’t do any of these things, because he knows if he can just be patient, Harry won’t disappoint him.

And he’s right. 

It’s tentative, but Louis’ straining ears pick up the needy sigh Harry lets escape as the bunk above him creaks with the younger man’s fevered movements. As his own fist mimics Harry’s pace, Louis can’t help but imagine him again. Curls spread out over a white pillow, head thrown back in actual ecstasy. His lean body stretched taught to make him appear even longer. Skin flushed, toes curled…

Fuck.

Louis shifts, turning his head just enough so he’s able to sink his teeth into the top of his arm, his other hand stroking faster between his legs. His teeth pierce his skin, the pain mingling with the pleasure that sets off fireworks inside his brain, confusing him. Grounding him and yet setting him adrift all at once. 

Harry is letting out these needy huffs of sound, only accompanied by his panting breath and Louis is so fucking close. Knows he shouldn’t be doing this, but that only adds to his desperation. 

A sound rips itself from the back of Harry’s throat, quiet, but loud in the cabin and Louis sees stars because Harry’s just had an orgasm above him. He squeezes his fist around his cock and is helpless to do anything but follow. The only problem is, Louis doesn’t have much in the way of control when he lets go. 

He moans. 

The silence that follows is enough for Louis to feel like a panic attack is unavoidable. His come is still drying on his fingers and stomach, eyelashes fluttering against the tops of his cheeks while his breathing remains labored and his heart pounds a permanent rhythm against his ribs. 

“Louis?” Harry gasps, and the suspense in the air is so thick it could strangle him. It smells like sex, so much so that Louis can almost taste it on the back of his tongue, and Harry’s voice had just quivered on his name. 

“Go to sleep, Harry.” He commands, aiming for annoyed but coming out wrecked. Harry never could disobey Louis, though, and a few minutes later his breath evens out as he slips easily into dreams. 

Louis is wide awake, because now he knows what his name sounds like on Harry’s lips after getting off. 

The scary thing is how easily it could become addictive. 

-*-*-

Harry feels awkward. 

It was an awkward morning with averted eyes and mumbled greetings, Louis’ cheeks flushing whenever they made contact. Harry doesn’t like it. The air is weird between them and even the others are beginning to sense their strange behavior. He hates that he’s put Louis in this position. Wishes he’d been more sensible about dealing with his…well, himself.

He’s embarrassed his best friend but he has plans to put things to rights. 

They’re taking a break between interviews, promoting the tour and other appointments. Niall had stayed behind, chatting with the attractive females that had doted on him. Liam and Zayn had begged off outside somewhere, probably to smoke or something. Louis had headed deeper into the building, and Harry tries to retrace his steps, figure out where he’s gone. 

He stops in front of the toilets when a muffled noise catches his attention. Harry’s brow furrows while inching closer to the door as quietly as he can. There’s a banging sound from within, and he jumps in surprise over how loud it is in the quiet corridor. 

Somebody whimpers, a drawn out whine that tugs on something in Harry’s abdomen and causes all of his blood to rush south. 

That’s Louis’ voice.

He remembers it so vividly then. Touching himself in the dark early morning hours while trying to be so damn quiet. But more than that, he remembers hearing Louis’ moan. The way it had been filled with pleasure and yearning as it was pulled from his body.

The way he’s moaning now. 

Louis isn’t doing a very good job of being quiet. At least Harry had made a kind of effort last night, but this is just unacceptable. Anyone walking by would instantly know what he’s up to.

Harry decides he’ll guard the hall, just in case. Ward others off if they come this way. It’s for Louis’ sake, really, and the older boy will appreciate the sacrifice he’s making in order to make sure he doesn’t make a fool of himself. 

Louis let’s out something that sounds borderline painful. A kind of high-pitched hum that sinks into a low groan before tapering off. Harry nearly falls, he gets hard that fast. His trousers are terribly uncomfortable, and he’s only now just realizing what a colossally bad idea this was. The worst idea of epic proportions. 

Harry’s too busy chewing through his lips and literally holding his hands captive so he can’t slip them into his pants that he doesn’t register the sink running or the door unlocking until its open. 

Louis stands a mess in front of him. His checks are blotched with pink and his eyes are more black then blue. His clothes are askew, hair completely deflated and lying limply along his forehead. Harry can see the way his chest heaves beneath his thin shirt and his lips are redder then cherry candy as he stares back at Harry with something akin to panic. 

Harry could say a lot of things in this moment. Something to break the tension and ease the awkwardness. He’s not sure he delivers.

“Lou’s gonna be angry when she sees she has to fix you up again.” He breathes out, motioning to Louis’ general disheveled appearance. 

Louis’ so surprised he snorts, and Harry counts it as a win until the light in his friend’s eyes slightly diminishes. 

“What are you doing here?”

It shouldn’t hurt, but it does, and Harry flinches before he can school his features. 

“Came to apologize.” He says honestly, and Louis immediately looks contrite. 

“What do you have to be sorry for?” He almost-whispers sincerely, stepping closer towards Harry.

“I’ve made you uncomfortable. You’ve been acting differently towards me.” 

Louis’ already shaking his head. “Not uncomfortable.” He mumbles. “Just…” The older boy sighs as he struggles to find his words. “There’s a difference between knowing that you wank and knowing, you know?”

“Not really.” Harry says with humor in his tone. “Are you really saying you’re shocked that I’m a sexual person?” 

Louis looks embarrassed now, and when Louis is embarrassed, he tends to lash out a bit. Now is no exception. “There’s nothing wrong with that, but you should think about what you’re doing and where you’re doing it.”

Harry looks at Louis in disbelief before pointedly eyeing the door from where he’d just emerged. 

Louis’ face goes even redder. 

“Shall I say it, then?” Harry asks, because something about the way Louis is acting is upsetting him.

“Say what?” Louis huffs.

“Pot. Kettle. Black.” Harry lists off, eyes somewhere near the ceiling. 

Louis fumes. “You cheeky bastard.” He growls, jumping when they both hear a door slam down the hall.

Harry yelps when Louis grabs his arm, dragging him into the restroom and locking the door behind them. It smells like sex in the small space, and he should not have allowed himself to be maneuvered into this tiny room that Louis had just gotten off in if his dick jumping in his pants is anything to go by. 

“At least I sought out privacy. You must think having a curtain pulled over your bunk counts.”

“Says the one who was listening.” Harry throws in, and Louis’ eyes widen because Harry knows what he did and causally makes it known to the both of them, as if it doesn’t matter. But Louis is aware of his own interesting set of facts.

“Now who’s the pot calling the kettle black?” He demands, moving in closer, disregarding any notion of personal space. Harry’s breath hitches. 

“What do you mean?” He asks, eyes running across Louis’ face, trying to take in everything at once. 

“Just what were you doing outside the door, Harry? How long were you standing there?”

“N-not long.” Harry stutters, internally cursing himself. “It was just…a few minutes. Not long.” He repeats uselessly. He stops breathing when Louis gets even closer, the cerulean blue of his eyes swimming in Harry’s gaze and making him dizzy. He traces the ring of green around his pupil until he feels somewhat centered. 

“And were you listening?” Louis whispers, the soft quality of his voice putting Harry in a trance. 

“No.” He breathes out, taking a deep inhale when Louis’ body connects with his while the older man leans up on the tips of his toes to reach his ears. 

“You always were a terrible liar, Harry.” He breathes against his sensitive skin, and Harry’s whole body shudders. 

Louis steps back, heading towards the sinks and leaning against the ceramic basins. Harry needs to say something. He needs to break this tension and bring it back to their usual antics on these matters. They’re friends. Nothing more. Can’t be anything more, and he needs to remember that, no matter how much he tries to betray himself. 

He makes it less serious. Has to.

“You make it sound like I have a terrible problem when the truth is I could stop whenever I want to. Since it makes you that uncomfortable.”

“I am not uncomfortable.” Louis exclaims, putting weight behind his words.

“Clearly.” Harry mutters sarcastically.

“I am not!” 

Harry puts his hands up, allowing a grin to twist his lips. “I won’t even say anything when I happen to catch you doing it. I can be understanding.”

“I’m understanding.” Louis interjects, and Harry is finding a joy in this he probably shouldn’t, getting Louis riled up. 

“You think I can’t stop? Or that I’m not understanding about it?” He demands.

Harry gives an easy shrug, trying to hide the amusement and excitement mixed in his gaze. Louis is fuming from where he stands, and he lets himself take in the older boy’s reflection through the clean surface of the mirror. 

Louis looks good like this, and the air thickens, charges with something that puts him on edge a bit. Something more.

Harry’s tongue slips between his teeth, running along his bottom lip nervously; a long standing habit he didn’t know the first thing about breaking. Louis had that look in his eye. Fire dancing around in his irises to light up those blue depths and making them glow. It was a familiar look, the one he gave when accepting any dare or challenge that was thrown his way. 

“I could do it.” Louis states, and Harry’s not sure why he needs Louis to question his capability, but he does, so he snorts showing his lack of confidence.

Harry can’t even remember what the off-handed bet was, but he knew he didn’t stand a chance when Louis looked like that. He was like a predator that caught the scent of weakness, and Harry was the fumbling prey. 

He tripped over his own legs in his struggle to back up when Louis stalked forward. Harry barely registered the cold hard wall pressing against his back as Louis pressed against him, their bodies flush. 

“You really think you’ll do better than me, don’t you?” The older boy whispered, his breath caressing Harry’s ear while disturbing the curl that hugged the shell of his lobe. 

Harry struggled to swallow, hardening his features as he gave a slow nod. “I have more control than you do.” Harry stated, ridiculously proud of himself when his voice didn’t tremble or crack. 

“Control?” Louis said in that same curiously quiet tone. Harry didn’t think it was possible, but Louis moved in even closer, their lips practically touching, but not quite. They stayed like that for a moment. Every breath Harry exhaled, Louis inhaled and the cycle repeated. 

“I’ll show you control.” It was more than a threat. It was a promise.

-*-*-

The rules are simple. Don’t get off. 

Simple. On paper, maybe. 

Although his life was what could be called ‘blessed’, Louis dealt with a lot of stress, and his go-to stress reliever was now off-limits. 

He could punch himself for his stupidity. The first day was fine. He’d already gotten himself off before accepting that ridiculous challenge anyway; even though his usual run was a good three times a day, at least. Still, he was sure he could do it. Harry would break first. 

Only, Harry didn’t seem at all effected. He laughed and joked with the others. Flirted with interviewers and fans onstage. Louis sulked, and bit the inside of his cheek over his unaffectedness. He learned how little control he actually possessed and had to stay away from certain triggers. Movies and television shows were full of way too many sex-scenes these days and he was beginning to find music alarmingly provocative and therefore avoided these things like the plague.

The slightest occurrence got his blood burning. It was embarrassing. 

In the back of the bus, Louis was nearly tearing his lip up with his teeth as he eyed Zayn and Liam. The two were practically playing footsy while grasping at each other like newlyweds. It was wreaking havoc on Louis’ psyche. Across the way, Harry was situating his head in Niall’s lap and successfully preventing him from playing guitar, much to the blonde’s fond irritation. 

None of this should be a turn-on for him. Not even remotely. And yet, there it was.

Louis practically jumped from his spot before heading down the hall with a mumbled ‘goodnight.’

He was almost to his bunk when someone’s hand on his arm swung him around. 

“You okay?” Harry asked, sounding out of breath and that made Louis’ pulse quicken worse than anything else ever could. His long fingers danced along his skin raising goose bumps in their wake and causing chills. 

“Yeah.” He answered, just as breathless. “Fine.” 

“It’s just-”

“We never set terms.” Louis interrupted, because he knew Harry could see how much he was floundering, but he wasn’t about to let him draw attention to it. 

“Terms?” Harry asked confused, and Louis nodded emphatically. 

“You know, what we both get if we win. For encouragement. Otherwise we’re torturing ourselves for no reason.” He explained patiently, but Harry’s smug grin made him stop cold.

“So you are being tortured, then?”

“Shut up.” Louis muttered, and Harry’s grin turned soft before nudging Louis’ arm with his own. 

“So, tell me what you want?” The younger boy demanded, and Louis’ mind filled with inappropriate images of Harry. Everything to do with Harry.

“I…” He couldn’t think. Could barely breathe, and his dick was so fucking hard in his track pants he didn’t know why Harry wasn’t pointing it out.

“You…have to do whatever I say for a whole day.” Louis blurted out. 

“Deal.” Harry said without missing a beat, his green eyes shining like the light in The Great Gatsby. His easy agreement had Louis groaning, because Harry already did whatever Louis told him to do. 

“What do you want, then?” He asked, slightly defeated. 

“Not telling you.” Harry grinned, his face leaning in so his nose could bump Louis’. “You’ll find out.”

“Not if you lose.” Louis shot back, but Harry’s smile merely widened. “How do I know you’re not cheating?” 

“How do I know you’re not?” Harry retorted.

“I’m not.” Louis stated. 

“Okay.” Harry nodded. “Neither am I. There we go. It’s called trust.” 

Louis rolled his eyes good-naturedly and couldn’t help but smile at the younger man.

“Sleep well, Louis.”

“Put some clothes on.” He said out of nowhere, eyeing Harry’s bare chest and unable to control his reaction to it. “It’s the middle of fucking winter, innit?” 

“Yes, Louis.” Harry replied with a placating tone, and Louis sighed before climbing up into his bunk.

It was doubtful that he would sleep much at all.

-*-*-

Harry shed his unaffected demeanor like snake skin the following day. He was tense, so much so that he was making the others wary with the uncharacteristic attitude he was exuding. Only Louis knew the truth, and he was the only one looking smug about his change in tune. 

“You alright, mate?” Niall asked with genuine concern, and Harry had to dodge the hand he extended in easy friendship. 

He couldn’t handle touch right now. 

Niall wasn’t bothered by the brush-off, but his concerned expression deepened.

“Just tired. Not feeling like myself.” 

Niall doesn’t press, and Harry loves him for it, because Louis is right. He’s a terrible liar and he can’t hide things from anyone. He makes a decision to do better. Tries to find something to distract himself. 

Reading is no good. Too often the words spill together while his mind wanders, and he’s stuck going over the same paragraph for a half an hour. 

He tries to draw a few things but his hands are actually shaking and all his little doodles come out looking like squiggles.

Harry turns to his journal then, thinking he’ll pass the time by coming up with a few good knock-knock jokes, but all he has so far is, ‘knock-knock, who’s there? Blue. Blue who? Blue balls because Orgasm couldn’t come and sent me instead.’ Not funny, but it’s all he’s got.

Louis has been in his bunk all day and Harry’s missed him. Missed how loud and energetic he always is. This challenge between them is stupid, in more ways than one and Harry doesn’t want to do it anymore. He doesn’t want to do a lot of things anymore, but it feels like it’s too early to throw in the towel now. 

Harry shoves his journal away and takes a page out of Louis’ book. He’ll hide in his bunk, and hopefully get in a nap before they arrive at the venue.

-*-*-

Louis notices. Of course he does. Harry is far clumsier tonight then he’s ever seen him before, and he just knows it has to do with their ridiculous challenge. The younger man won’t let anyone touch him. Wouldn’t even let Lou near him to do his hair, claiming he wanted to leave it down for the night. His curls are as wild as the look in his green-mercury eyes. He’s twitchy, unable to keep still and yet lagging as if he hasn’t slept in days. 

Maybe he hasn’t. 

Louis hasn’t slept much either. 

Harry’s a spitfire onstage though. He riles the crowd, dances and touches himself like everyone’s own personal temptation. He stays away from the others. Doesn’t allow Zayn to pull him into a hug and doesn’t even let Niall hang off of him, dodging hands and fingers as if he’s allergic. 

“What’s wrong with him?” Liam practically shouts into his ear when they both reach center stage, because if anyone would know, of course it would be Louis. 

Louis tilts his head and shrugs, feigning confusion, and Liam gives him that hardened look that clearly states ‘you’re so full of shit.’ Louis ignores it, turns, and like Harry did, dodges the others the best he can.

As the night progresses, Louis’ worry grows. Harry gets increasingly anxious looking. His hands are trembling. Louis can see it whenever the cameras project him up onto the big screen. If he can see it, everyone can fucking see it. Not only that, but he’s having a bit of trouble hitting some of the notes tonight, and each time he looks so heartbreakingly disappointed in himself. 

Louis catches his eye, makes a few motions with his hands that he knows Harry will recognize. Without using his words, he tells Harry to relax, and not strain his voice. Harry gets it. Of course he does, and he sends a nod Louis’ way before he’s off again. 

They’re almost done. They can relax soon. And that’s when it happens. 

Harry’s had a few close calls all night, but he’s managed to right himself in time, miraculously finding his balance before doing any damage. 

Not this time, though.

Harry stumbles, trips over something – his own feet, most likely. He goes down hard. Louis watches it happen like its being played out for him in slow motion and visibly winces when Harry hits, all the breath leaving his lungs on a sharp exhale.

Niall helps him up, and Harry shuffles a bit, trying to find his footing and hide the pain from his expression at the same time. Louis’ a wreck for the rest of the performance. Doesn’t know what to do with himself, or what song they’re even singing. He can’t look anywhere but at Harry.

The moment they’re off, Louis doesn’t wait. He drags Harry away from everyone else and their concern and into the first empty room he finds. 

“Let me see.” He demands, voice struggling barely above a whisper but Harry moves to obey, too tired to argue or try to play it down. Louis tracks Harry’s expression, breath hitching when he sees discomfort flit across the younger man’s face as he crosses his arms over his chest, fingers gripping the hem of his shirt before lifting it up and over his head with a wince and an audible hiss. 

“Christ, Harry.” Louis gasps, fingers hovering over the already bruised flesh on his lower left back. 

“That bad?” Harry asks, trying to lighten the mood, but Louis can hear the pain in his voice. 

Harry’s fair skin is already mottled with purples, yellows, and reds. Louis can’t stop himself from grazing his fingers over it ever-so-slightly, regretting the action when Harry flinches away from the touch. 

“Yeah, that hurts.” He grunts, and Louis wants to wrap him up in a pillow-suit and several blankets so shit like this never happens again. 

“Damn your clumsy legs, unable to support your lengthy torso.” 

“Hey!” Harry exclaims, feigning insult. “You don’t like my legs?” The last part sounds an awful lot like a pout. 

“I like ‘em fine, curly.” Louis soothes, eyes catching on the bruise once more. “I like them even better when they hold you up properly.” 

“It really hurts, Lou.” Harry admits quietly, almost as if he doesn’t want to say it. Louis’ hands flit away from the dark mass, resting them on Harry’s shoulders instead. 

“I know, love.” He says in understanding, feeling Harry shiver at his touch and the slip of endearment (something he decides not to analyze too much) “Why don’t I get you some tea when we get back on the bus, yeah? Maybe a heat pack for your back? Or some ice?” Louis isn’t too sure what would be better.

Harry nods, head turning to look over his shoulder, his green eyes meeting Louis’ blue ones. 

“Thanks, Lou.” He whispers gratefully, and Louis feels that all too familiar feeling he gets whenever he’s near Harry. As if someone has their fingers wrapped around his heart, squeezing tightly when the fancy strikes them. 

“No problem, Haz.” They look at each other longer than necessary before Louis physically shakes himself. He has to concentrate on this. He needs to take care of Harry.

“They have showers here.” He informs somewhat out of the blue. “Second door on the left down the hall.” Louis recites from memory. “Why don’t you take one of those scorching hot ones you like so much, and I’ll bring you a change of clothes, yeah?”

Harry smiles brilliantly even though he’s clearly still hurting, and gives a nod to the suggestion.

Louis walks him to the showers and leaves him to it with a shaky breath and unsure feet. He finds Harry some clothes remembering to add a towel to the mix before heading back. He assures everyone on his way that yes, Harry is fine. No, it’s not too bad, just some bruising.

The words feel hollow in his mouth.

Harry is naked and covered in delicate drops of water when he returns. He’s too surprised to remember that he’s not supposed to stare. Louis takes in the way his hair is drenched. How it reaches the tops of his shoulders and tries valiantly to curl across his forehead even though the strands are weighed down. He can’t help but notice that the lines of his muscles create set paths for the water to trace. 

Harry is long and lean and fit, and fuck, Louis’ hard and he can’t breathe.

Harry is looking at him with concern, brow raised while he stares curiously back. Louis hands him the towel before he can say anything, and Harry takes it gratefully. The kid never did have a problem with being nude. 

Louis tenses when he hears Harry’s gasp of pain. 

“Let me see.” He hears himself say for the second time.

“You already saw.” Harry half-heartedly argues, but he turns around just the same. “S’just a bruise, Louis. M’not gonna die.” He mutters. 

“Don’t even joke.” Louis says seriously before critically eyeing the mark. “You sure it isn’t more than that? We could have a doctor look-”

“M’fine.” Harry reiterates, sounding fond rather than irritated.

Louis doesn’t know why he does it, but he takes the towel from Harry’s grasp and runs it gently over Harry’s back, chasing droplets and wiping them away. Harry doesn’t ask what he’s doing, but his breathing speeds up while he allows Louis to do this for him, arms lifting easily when he goes to do his sides. 

Louis isn’t embarrassed, even though his cheeks turn pink. He runs the towel across Harry’s bum, all the way down the backs of his thighs, to his calves and finally his ankles. He stays the course when he steps around to Harry’s front, caught in the younger man’s bright gaze as he goes to work, delicately patting down Harry’s ears and neck. He caresses down the ink-covered chest, further to a quivering abdomen.

Harry is hard. Cock full and heavy between his legs and Louis’ mouth fills with saliva. He doesn’t want to talk about it. Doesn’t want to feel awkward for wanting things he simply shouldn’t. The towel goes lower and Harry sucks in a gasping breath and a quiet moan when Louis is thorough with him there as well. Louis flips the towel to the unused side, brings it to Harry’s head gently before he massages it into his wet hair. 

Harry’s like a cat, touch-starved and eager for attention. He whines, and whimpers freely, keeping himself unchecked while he sways until Louis has to drop the towel and steady Harry in his arms. 

“This is why you won’t let anyone touch you.” Louis finds himself saying, and it’s not a question but Harry answers anyway.

“Can’t help it.” He sighs, lids fluttering. “It’s been days. The tiniest thing sets me off.”

Louis knows exactly how he feels. He does. But something about that still hurts. Harry’s so desperate even Louis is enough to do it for him, so to speak. He lets Harry go, much to his displeasure if his groan of protest is anything to go by. 

“Come on.” Louis orders, handing Harry his sleep pants and a thin shirt. “Get dressed. We’ll go back to the bus and see you settled.”

Harry pouts, but again, he does what Louis tells him.

-*-*-

Louis brings him tea in the lounge and kicks the other lads out so he’s able to stretch out without bothering his back too much. Harry spills some of the hot liquid onto his hand and Louis ‘tsks’ at him before taking the tea away and setting it on the end table instead. 

“You’re a menace to yourself.” He mutters, bringing Harry’s mildly burned hand to his mouth and sucking over the red mark that’s forming. Harry’s mind blanks, and he’s unable to do anything but stare openly at Louis with his lips parted, a flush painting his cheeks. 

When Louis remembers himself, he releases Harry’s hand and fidgets with the hem of his shirt. He pulls an ice pack seemingly out of thin air, his bottom lips stuck between his teeth as he tests the temperature. 

“I looked it up.” The older boy starts, wincing when the cold material hits his skin. “Most websites said ice is better for bruising.” 

Harry sighs because he hates being cold, but his back is killing him, so if there’s even the smallest chance that the ice will make him feel a little bit better, he’ll take it. 

“Will you?” He asks, lowering down to the cushions on his stomach. Louis nods, bringing the ice pack closer and closer to Harry’s bruise. 

“Breathe in.” Louis instructs and Harry takes in a deep breath as the cold pack makes contact, his inhale turning into a sharp gasp.

“I know. I know.” Louis consoles, interspersed with soothing shushing sounds. It’s only when Harry adapts to the drop in temperature that he realizes he has a death grip on Louis hand. He relaxes his hold, but doesn’t let go.

“Do you need anything?” Louis asks uncertainly, eyes showing how desperate he is for a way to make this better for Harry. 

“A new back would be great.” Harry sighs, trying to relax his taught muscles before sinking further down into the cushions once he’s somewhat comfortable. “But I’d settle for a massage.”

Louis doesn’t so much as hesitate, and Harry feels like the proper thing to do would be to tell him he’d been joking. He doesn’t want to force Louis to do anything. But then the older man’s hands are on him and they feel amazing. 

Harry moans into the leather before he buries his face in it, remembering they’re not the only ones on the bus. Louis fingers knead into his shoulder blades, kissing along the length of his spine while adding just the right amount of pressure. 

“How are you real?” Harry whimpers, voice muffled by the sofa. Louis stays quiet, concentrating on his task while he skirts around Harry’s ice pack and bruise, doing what he can to release the tension that’s built up in Harry’s lower back. 

Harry feels his eyes grow heavy. He’s caught in the way Louis’ fingers dance expertly across his skin, as if he knows how Harry operates. As if he created Harry himself and remembers just where to push in order to get him to do what he wants. It’s an arousing thought, but these days, everything is.

“I think you missed your calling.” Harry mumbles, delighted when he hears that he made Louis laugh.

“I suppose it’s not too late. I could always quit the band, enroll in courses on how to be a masseuse.

“No.” Harry denies adamantly, even though he knows Louis is joking. “You can’t, you’re stuck here. You have to stay.”

“Calm down, Harold. M’not going anywhere.” He soothes, running his hands down the length of Harry’s back. 

“Good.” Harry sighs contentedly. “I’d miss you.” He admits, sounding more close to sleep then not.

“Miss you, too.” Louis admits as Harry’s lids sink down.

Louis continues to rub the knots out of Harry’s muscles long after his breathing evens out and he falls into an easy sleep.

-*-*-

Louis hates waking him up, but Harry’s back will be in worse sorts if he sleeps in the lounge rather than his bunk. 

“Louis?” Harry sniffles in confusion when Louis shifts a curl out of his green eyes with the tip of a finger. 

“You need to get in bed, love.” He slips, again not thinking about the way he’s freely using the endearment. 

“Don’t wanna move.” Harry grumbles somewhat stubbornly while rubbing at his eyes, but Louis knows he’ll budge eventually.

“I know, but you won’t be able to move at all tomorrow if you stay here.” Louis warns, reaching out for Harry’s hands and smiling when Harry interlaces their fingers. 

“Come on, curly. Up you go.” Louis pulls him gently, moving the ice pack while being careful of his back, holding him securely when Harry falters on his feet. The younger man rests his head on Louis’ shoulder, hunching down in order to do so and Louis can’t help but smile at his child-like antics. 

“Want my tea.” Harry mumbles into Louis’ shirt-covered shoulder, his hot breath dampening the material, causing Louis to tremble. 

“S’cold now, Haz. Do you want me to make you a new cup?”

Harry hesitates before shaking his head. “Should sleep.” Is his answer and Louis leads him out of the lounge and towards their bunks. Harry finally lifts his gaze to eye his bed as if it offends him.

“Too high.” He decides haughtily, and Louis can’t help but snort loudly even though all the other lads are trying to sleep.

“You can have mine for the night. I’ll take yours.” He offers easily, holding his breath when Harry gives him a hopeful look.

“We could share.” He suggests, and even though there are a million things Louis should be concerned with, the only thing that matters is Harry’s comfort.

“Your back-” He starts to protests, because the bunks are hardly tolerable with one person to them, but with two?

“It’ll be fine.” Harry tries to reassure him, even though he doesn’t sound too sure himself. “I just…haven’t been sleeping well lately, and I…will you stay?”

Louis couldn’t say no even if he wanted to, and he doesn’t.

“Of course.” He smiles softly, Helping Harry to climb in first. Louis removes his shirt before he follows after him, careful not to jostle the younger man too much. It’s sure to get overheated inside with the two of them squished together. 

It actually isn’t as bad as he thought it would be. Harry’s facing him and Louis turns his back to Harry’s chest so he can pull the curtain closed, leaving them in the dark and to their privacy. Louis’ about to turn back around when Harry moves in closer, wraps an arm around his waist and pulls them flush together. Harry’s front curving along Louis’ back. 

Louis tries to regulate his breathing, can’t seem to catch a breath. Tries not to think about how well they fit together.

“Are you comfortable?” He asks, proud that his voice doesn’t come out too high or strangled. 

“Very.” Harry answers sounding pleased. “Are you?”

“Quite.” Louis says. 

“Thanks, Lou.” Harry whispers into the sensitive skin of his neck as he snuggles closer, and Louis shivers. 

“You’re welcome, Harry.” 

Despite feeling his pulse jump and his blood rush to more intimate places, Louis falls asleep instantly and for the first time in days, he stays that way.

-*-*-

Harry is jostled awake, and he squeezes his eyes tightly shut in a wince when his back protests. His arm’s fallen asleep, pinned down by something solid and warm. When his eyes open he has to squint until the fog in his vision clears. He’s moved around during the night and takes stock of his new position. 

Louis is resting on his stomach and Harry’s practically on top of him. His front covers Louis’ back in a kind of makeshift blanket. Harry’s lips are mashed between Louis’ heaving shoulder blades and the older man’s bare skin tastes like summer. 

Harry doesn’t have to wait long before learning what woke him. Louis is whimpering in his sleep. A kind of nnghh sound that makes Harry’s eyes widen and his senses spike. Louis is moving as well. Sharp hip-thrusts against the mattress and consequently, Harry’s pinned hand. Fuck, he’s literally rutting against his fist and he’s hard as a rock. 

Harry freezes, unsure of what to do. Louis’ still asleep, and he can’t take advantage of that. Once the older man wakes up he’ll be embarrassed. Something Harry deeply wants to avoid. As gently as he can, he slips his hand out from underneath Louis, stilling when the other boy shows signs of waking. 

Harry pulls his hand free just as Louis’ lashes begin to flutter, revealing blue eyes that roam in confusion before finding Harry’s green ones.

“You’re on top of me.” He croaks from over his shoulder. Harry swallows and nods.

“Uh-huh. Woke up this way.” He admits truthfully. 

“Was having a good dream.” Louis nearly groans before collapsing back down to his pillow. 

“Were you?” Harry asks, cursing at the way his voice goes high on the question. 

Louis makes a non-committal sound before seeking out Harry’s gaze again. “How’s your back?” He inquires with genuine concern. Harry shrugs a shoulder, keeping the wince off his face. 

“Could be worse, could be better.” 

Louis snorts. “That literally tells me nothing.” He throws his shoulder back so it lightly taps Harry’s chest. “Budge up, I’ll see for myself, then.” 

Harry shuffles to do what he’s told, emulating Louis’ position on his stomach while the other boy turns to his side to get a better look. He hears Louis’ sharp intake of breath.

“Jesus, Harry.” He mutters and Harry tries not to panic.

“That bad? How’s it look?”

“Like a fucking rainbow.” Louis sighs. 

“Take a photo and show it to me?” He asks softly, relaxing when he hears Louis clambering around for his phone. The sound of a camera snap pushes Harry to open his eyes and glance at the picture Louis’ just taken. 

Harry lets out a whistle under his breath. His fair skin is mottled with reds, purples, yellows, blues and greens. 

“You had to hit the corner on the ramp, didn’t you?” There’s no heat behind Louis’ question, but Harry feels sheepish nonetheless. 

“I was distracted.” 

“Oh yeah?” Louis asks sarcastically. “By what, Harold?”

“Nothing.” Harry mutters stubbornly, and Louis could press. Knows he could get the younger man to tell him anything, but his eyes sweep over the angry mark on his back and he feels somewhat lenient. 

“Come on.” He says, running a hand through Harry’s curls and delighting in the pleasured sound he emits from it. 

“I’ll make you tea again and get you some more ice.” 

“Tea’s good. No more ice.” 

“You will have ice.” Louis says firmly, and of course, Harry listens without further argument. 

-*-*-

Louis’ lost track of his days, all of them merging together into a never ending cycle that is destined to repeat itself. It’s their first day off in a while, and he can’t even enjoy it, he’s so tightly wrung. 

Louis taps his foot against the floor, struggling not to say anything. The bus is quiet, everyone else opting to explore and go sightseeing rather than stay cooped up. Harry is the only other person who stayed behind, claiming his back was still bothering him. Louis thinks he lied. The only reason he wanted to stay was to drive him crazy, as-per-usual. 

Harry’s got on the shortest pair of shorts Louis has ever seen. A bright green color that does wonders for his eyes. His skin is golden and he’s got legs for days. It isn’t fair. Harry’s also forgone shirts at the moment, even though it’s raining outside. He’s essentially flaunting himself to Louis, naked.

Still, it isn’t just his lack of attire that’s causing Louis’ blood to boil. It’s his choice of snack, as well. 

“Get that banana out of your mouth.” Louis suddenly erupts, disturbing the comfortable quiet they’d settled into, but not surprising Harry in the least with his outburst. 

“Make me.” Harry retorts unfazed, and Louis has to grit his teeth when Harry once again circles his tongue around the yellow shaft. 

“Stop eating it like that.” He growls, because Harry is so obviously doing it on purpose, the little shit. 

“Like what?” He asks, lids fluttering in a look of mock-innocence. 

Louis narrows his eyes on him before muttering, “You know what.”

Harry’s grin widens. “Am I making you uncomfortable, sexually?” He questions cheekily, and Louis wants to tackle him. Hold him down and shove that banana down his throat. The image that gives him makes his head spin and his cock even harder between his legs. Fuck, but he has problems. Harry’s holding the banana out to him, now.

“Why don’t you show me how you’re supposed to eat it?” He suggests, and Louis knows Harry’s going to be the cause of his premature heart attack. He just knows it. 

“Put it back in your mouth, Harry.” Louis commands before he can properly think about it. 

And Harry just…does what he’s told, a pout gracing his lips around the snack. Louis can’t breathe, because he’s only just now realizing that he could probably tell Harry to do anything, and the kid would just…obey.

“Do you always do what you’re told?” Louis asks before he can think better of it. Fuck, he can’t believe he said that out loud. 

“No.” Harry exclaims, muffled around the fruit while his pout deepens. Louis can’t help but push further, even though he knows better. 

“Don’t talk with your mouth full.” 

Harry immediately seals his lips and chews, and Louis is about to hyperventilate. 

“Do you enjoy it?” Louis breathes out on a sigh, saying the words quickly, not giving his nerves a chance to make him back out. 

Harry dutifully waits until he swallows down his bite of banana (As per Louis’ instructions) before speaking up. 

“Enjoy what?” 

“Obeying.” 

Harry’s eyes go dark, the mossy green shifting into emerald. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He claims, voice lowering to an even huskier timbre than normal.

“Is it like a natural response?” Louis continues, genuinely curious. 

“What about you?” Harry demands, trying to turn the attention around on Louis. “You seem to enjoy giving orders, perhaps you’re a control freak.” 

Louis snorts. “I can tell you what to do all day long and it wouldn’t make a difference. You’re the one who chooses to listen, and that makes it your choice. You’re the one giving me control.” 

Harry’s skin flushes an interesting shade of pink, and Louis’ tracks its progress from the bridge of his nose to the tops of his cheeks, all the way down the curve of his neck before settling on his chest. 

Louis can see the clear outline of Harry’s dick in his ridiculous shorts, growing firm just from the conversation. Alarms are going off in his head, and he knows the responsible thing would be to get up and walk away from what this is turning into.

He mentally tells responsibility to go fuck itself.

“Your hair has gotten a bit wild, Haz.” Louis informs off-handedly, his lips upturned in a grin. “Why don’t you run your fingers through it to comb it out?”

Harry glares at him – or tries to at least. Harry kind of fails at looking angry with anyone. Still, Louis notes the way his fingers start twitching, unable to stop until he lets out a frustrated sigh, puts his half-eaten banana on the coffee table before bringing his hands to his hair and doing as Louis suggested. Louis’ heart picks up and his arousal is so strong he’s sure he can smell it.

“What about you then?” Harry suddenly says on a tired breath. “Do you have a thing for ordering me around like you’re my father?” His smirk gets a little twisted and his eyes flash bright with mischief. “Like you’re my daddy?”

Louis can’t hide the way his eyes widen and he can’t quiet how loudly he sucks in a much needed breath of air. 

“You do, don’t you?” Harry asks, looking and sounding far too victorious. “Shall I call you that from now on, then? Would it make you happy, daddy?” 

“Stop.” Louis practically chokes, and Harry goes quiet instantly. He can’t think. Can’t breathe, can hardly function because Harry is systematically breaking him to pieces and rendering him useless just with fucking words. He tries to collect himself, but can only operate on impulse. 

“Keep calling me that and perhaps I should punish you like a father, then. You’re behavior isn’t very respectful towards me.”

Louis revels in the way Harry reacts to the threat. His fingers tighten in the material of his shorts and his whole body visibly trembles at the very idea. 

“You wouldn’t.” Harry counters, not as if he’s warning Louis against it, but rather pushing him towards it. 

“I would.” Louis promises, his voice a low register that makes Harry’s lids flutter shut. Louis watches as he licks his lips, eyes still closed as if fantasizing. 

“H-how would you do it?” He stutters, and something hot licks down Louis spine. “How would you punish me?” The fact that Harry wants him to describe it is getting him worked up beyond anything he could imagine.

“Would you like to see?” Louis asks, more as a challenge to determine what the younger boy would do. He was sure Harry would opt out, make a joke and turn this bizarre conversation into something less serious. 

Harry doesn’t do any of those things. He simply nods. 

“C’mere, Harry.” Louis whispers, watching the uncertainty that crosses Harry’s expression when faced with another order. Louis sought to reassure him. “No one can make you do anything you don’t want to do.” He promises gently. “You have all the power here.” 

Harry’s resolve strengthened, Louis can see it on his face the second he makes his decision to go through with this. Harry gains his feet and makes his way to stand before him. Louis patted the cushion next to him. 

“Sit.” He instructed again, and Harry sat. 

“I probably know you better than you know yourself most days.” Louis boldly claims, angling himself more towards Harry just in time to catch the doubt in his green eyes. 

“That’s okay, you don’t have to believe me.” Louis shrugged, tracing his eyes down Harry’s pronounced collar bones. “S’better if you don’t.” Harry frowned at him, but Louis kept going. “I wouldn’t punish you with physical pain.” He assures. “Spankings wouldn’t work on someone like you.” He doesn’t talk about how he couldn’t bear to see the younger man hurt anyway. 

“How would you do it?” Harry asks, repeating his earlier question. 

“I’d take away your favorite toy.” Louis whispers, moving in until his lips nearly brush the delicate skin of Harry’s neck. The younger boy sucks in a breath, sways forward a little to try and close the space between them. Louis pulls back with a disparaging look. 

“I’d put you in a kind of timeout. Make you think about how you’ve acted.” He grabs Harry’s hands, guiding them above his head to rest along the top of the sofa cushions. He presses them down firmly with a pointed look at Harry, never breaking eye contact. Harry nods in understanding, and leaves his hands there even after Louis lets him go. 

“I’d make you regret what you did, so you would think twice about doing it again.” Louis growls, moving in closer until he was nearly in Harry’s lap. He doesn’t make contact, though. Was meticulous in making sure no part of them touched. Harry watched in agony as Louis’ hands traced the shape of his body, hovering an inch above his exposed skin but never closing the gap. 

“I’d tell you about all the ways I could be making you feel good right now, if only you’d just behaved.” Louis sighs in mock-disappointment, and Harry can’t help but groan as Louis’ fingertips circle just above his left nipple. 

“Would you like that?” Louis asks, not recognizing his own voice, drinking in the way Harry nods frantically beneath him. “Would you like me to touch you?”

“Yes.” Harry practically sobs, and Louis feels his heart skip a beat. 

“Too bad.” Harry does cry out at that, and Louis would take pity on him if he wasn’t already addicted to this. 

“Please.” Harry whimpers, his hips lifting up off the couch and Louis can see the damp spot over his cock, how he’s leaking through the material. He licks his lips. “Just please, touch me.” 

“I don’t think you deserve it.” Louis chastises, and Harry fucking writhes, still keeping his hands held captive above him, still respecting Louis’ authority and making no move to grab him. 

“I do! I swear, I do.” 

“Why should I believe you?” Louis asks, sounding bored, and Harry’s eyes dance with moisture while his teeth sink into his bottom lip. 

“I’ll be good.” He whispers, no hint of shame. “I promise I’ll be good, Daddy.” 

Louis is fucking done. He crawls into Harry’s lap without warning, fingers getting lost in Harry’s curls as he uses his leverage to pull him up and forward, crashing their lips together aggressively. Harry moans into his mouth as if he’s been given the sweetest relief and Louis swallows it down greedily. 

Harry’s tongue wraps around his own, pulling out to trace his bottom lip before thrusting back in. Louis feels like he’s drowning and breathing easily for the first time in ages. This boy has always been a contradiction to him. Two points on opposite sides of the scale that somehow cohabit inside Harry peacefully. Louis thinks it wouldn’t work well in anyone but him. 

Louis has to pull off, but he doesn’t go far. He rests his lips against Harry’s open mouth and rubs their tingling flesh together. 

“You’re unbelievable.” He can’t help but whisper, and Harry pulls the words inside himself with a whine. A high sound that rattles inside Louis’ head. He’s rutting against Louis’ arse now, pressing insistently up at a frantic pace. 

“Can’t stop.” He slurs. “Been too long. Louis, please. You have to stop me.” Harry begs, and it does something to Louis. Unhinges something deep inside of him, the way he begs. 

“Don’t stop. Never stop.” Louis moans, throwing his head back and pressing down to meet Harry. 

“But what about the bet?” Harry whimpers through gritted teeth, the hard line of his cock rubbing obscenely against Louis’ loose cotton sleep pants. 

“Fuck the bet.” Louis growls, pulling on Harry’s curls until his head is yanked back, throat exposed and allowing him to sink his teeth right where his pulse jumps erratically against the skin. 

Harry cries out, and Louis feels him tense and twitch beneath him. His chest heaves, his hot panting breaths caressing across Louis’ skin and heating up his cheeks. 

“Did you just-”

Harry nods, his eyes squeezed tightly shut and his teeth leaving impressions in his lip. 

“Fuck.” Louis whispers, unable to find that anything other than hot. He didn’t even get his hands around Harry’s dick yet and he already came just from this. 

“I’m sorry.” Harry whispers breathlessly. “It’s just…I haven’t done it since you told me not to, and I tried to wait, but-”

“Hey.” Louis says gently, hands cupping Harry’s jaw. “Hush, love. Don’t apologize for that.” 

Harry takes in a deep, calming breath through his nose and finally opens his eyes to meet Louis’ gaze. “You were perfect.” He finds himself saying, almost wincing at the words, but Harry’s there in an instant, a needy noise vibrating in the back of his throat as he presses their lips together.

“Can I move my hands now?” He asks softly and Louis nods, still in awe over Harry’s easy compliance. 

Long fingers grip at his skin then with Harry’s exuberance. He’s everywhere at once, trying to memorize every inch of Louis’ body as if it’ll be taken from him. 

“Wanted to touch you for so long.” Harry admits into his chest, right over his beating heart. “You really have no idea, do you?” 

“Starting to.” Louis huffs, arms wrapping around Harry’s neck. “Did you learn your lesson?”

“For now.” Harry shoots back, quick wit, that one.

“I’ll make sure you don’t easily forget.” Louis sighs, arching his back and allowing his head to fall, exposing his neck for Harry when he mouths at his Adam’s apple. 

“I’m looking forward to it.” Harry admits into his skin. His mouth is sinful, and Louis bites off a cry when he leans down to enclose his nipple between those lips. 

“Harry.” He whines pitifully, hips seeking friction as the younger man pulls off and grins at him. 

“Love the way you say my name.” He growls. “Say it again.” 

“Harry.” Louis pants, rolling his hips down, feeling Harry’s arousal jump and reawaken over his ministrations. 

“Christ, I wanna do so many things to you.” He admits against Louis’ lips before reclaiming them, and Louis is intrigued. 

“Tell me.” 

Harry groans before dancing his fingertips across Louis’ shoulders, circling down the bumps of his spine. 

“Wanna memorize the taste of you.” Harry admits into the muscle of his right arm. “Not just here.” He whispers, reacquainting himself with Louis’ lips. “Everywhere.” He finishes, gaze intense so he’ll be understood. 

“What else?” Louis presses, sounding more breathless then is probably healthy. 

“I want to hear the sounds that you make.” Harry groans, as if the idea physically affects him. “I want to be the cause of those sounds.” 

Louis can’t help it. He lets out an embarrassing moan that only helps to rile Harry up. 

“God, yeah. Just like that.” He sighs, licking a long stripe from Louis’ shoulder to his neck. 

“W-what else?” Louis stutters, feeling so close to the edge yet so fucking far away. 

“I want to kiss you all the time.” Harry heaves out like it’s the darkest confession. “Not just here.” He admits, placing a sweet kiss to Louis lips and pulling away before he can respond. “But here, as well.” He lays a confident palm over Louis’ erection, feeling the shape of him beneath his sweats. Louis groans and squirms in his lap. 

“I wanna swallow you down until I’m forced to come up for air.”

“Fuck, Harry. Fuck!” Louis whines. He can’t handle this. His body feels as if it’s on overload. 

“Yes.” Harry gasps, as if Louis’ just said something profound. “I want to fuck you, too. Want you to fuck me. I want it all, Lou. Tell me you want the same.”

“Christ, Harry. Yes! I want the same. Of course I do.” Louis admits, voice quiet because he feels like if he’s too loud, he’ll shatter this moment somehow. “Let me ride you?” He asks to both his and Harry’s surprise, and Louis feels him freeze underneath him. 

Everything is so quiet it’s loud, and Louis watches Harry blink in shock before he finds his voice again. 

“Lou…are you sure?” He breathes, and Louis thinks he’s never been surer of anything in his life. 

“I want that.” He rasps, running his fingers through Harry’s hair and getting lost in his eyes. “Fuck, I want that so much. Do you?” 

Harry hums in agreement, head nodding emphatically. “So much.” He whispers. 

“Take off your clothes.” Louis orders, rising up from Harry’s lap and moving towards the exit. “Need to get some things.” 

He removes his own kit and comes back with lube and a condom, still utterly useless at the sight of Harry naked. When the younger man begins to look a little self-conscious, Louis forces himself to blink. 

“You’re beautiful.” He reassures, placing the items on the coffee table and retaking his place on Harry’s lap. Harry actually blushes. 

“You too.” He praises, eyes drinking in Louis’ tan skin. It’s nothing the both of them haven’t seen before, but it’s different now. The context is different.

“Have you done this before?” Louis has to ask. Harry looks nervous now, and he gives a little shake of his head.

“Not like this.” He admits. “There was a girl, once.”

“Once?” Louis says, eyes widening and he knows he can’t keep the surprise off his face. Harry looks even less sure than he did before and his cheeks flush with embarrassment. 

“Yeah, once. S’there something wrong with that?” 

Louis’ already putting his lips to Harry’s, gently coaxing him to respond, and Harry doesn’t disappoint. “Nothing’s wrong with that, love.” He soothes, fingers caressing along Harry’s heated skin. “Just wanted to know so I don’t mess this up for you. Want it to be good.” 

Harry hums in the back of his throat in appreciation, his hands running up Louis’ thighs before reaching around so his palms can cup his arse. “You couldn’t mess this up for me.” He claims confidently, and Louis can’t help but preen a little. 

“Do we need that?” Harry suddenly asks, eyeing the condom petulantly as if it’s offended him. Louis frowns at the question, looking at the boy beneath him with his most serious expression. 

“Do I really need to talk to you about safe sex, young man?”

“It’s just…I’ve only been with one other person, but you’re the only one I want to do this with from now on.” 

It’s so innocent. So sweet. Louis knows he’s clean, and the idea of being that intimate with Harry, of sharing that with him…it gets his blood boiling. But still… 

“If we do this, you have to tell me.” He orders, placing a chaste kiss to Harry’s lips before working up the line of his jaw. “Tell me if you change your mind and meet someone else. If you get tired of this. You have to let me know and you have to promise to be safe with them-” 

Harry’s fingers grasp his cheeks, pulling him back so they can look into each other’s eyes. 

“Never.” He replies firmly. “That will never happen.” 

Louis doesn’t argue, he just seals his lips over Harry’s before leaning back for the lube. He coats his own fingers in front of Harry’s eyes, watching as the green gets swallowed up by the black of his pupil. He twists his arm back, circling his rim with practices movements. 

Harry looks equal parts overwhelmed and frustrated that he can’t see what Louis is doing. He gets a little desperate when Louis presses the first finger inside himself, arching into it and letting out a sigh at the stretch. Harry’s expression shows his curiosity.

“How’s it feel?” He asks quietly, and Louis can’t help but grin. 

“Tight.” He moans. “Full. I can show you sometime.” He offers, feeling his dick jump when Harry lets out a breathless, “Yes.”

Louis’ two fingers in, scissoring himself open when he feels Harry’s fingers brush against his own. 

“Can I?” He asks, sounding completely wrecked. 

“Here.” Louis offers him the lube with his free hand without question. Harry takes it and coats his fingers generously, bringing them back to Louis’ hole when he’s satisfied. Louis doesn’t bother removing his own fingers, but trains his eyes on Harry’s when he circles his rim as if waiting for permission.

“Do it.” He whispers, keening when Harry presses one long finger into him right next to two of his own. “Fuuuuck.” He slurs, elongating the word as if it were ripped out of him.

“Does it hurt?” Harry asks, genuinely worried, and Louis shakes his head quickly for him. 

“Feels good.” He sighs, lifting his hips off of Harry’s lap before dropping back down. His cock is so hard, leaking copiously against his stomach and Harry looks like he doesn’t know where to look. 

“Christ, Lou.” He pants, tongue peeking out to drag across his bottom lip. 

“Another.” Louis orders, and Harry obeys beautifully. Pressing his second finger inside and making it four in total. Louis mewls helplessly, head rolling back while his lids flutter in pleasure. Harry’s thrusting against him, unable to appease his need for friction. 

“Please, Louis.” He begs, and Louis feels the urgency in his own body. He pulls his fingers out, and Harry eagerly follows. 

“Let me.” Louis says, not waiting for Harry’s agreement before pouring more lube into his palm and wrapping it around Harry’s length. 

“Fuck, Lou.” Harry hisses, and writhes in Louis’ grip. 

“Can’t wait anymore.” Louis grits, rising up on his knees and positioning Harry at his entrance. He pauses for a moment, waits for Harry’s eyes to connect with his own before sinking down. 

He feels like a livewire. An exposed nerve that’s wracking his body with wave after wave of sensory detail. Harry is a mess beneath him, curls plastered to his forehead, red lips open wide as he struggles to catch a breath. Louis likes him best this way. 

“How’s your back?” Louis pants, smirking when Harry lets out a strangled laugh. 

“You’re asking me that now?” He wheezes, hips stuttering up as if they had a will of their own.

“Seemed relevant. Don’t move.” Louis adds, voice firm, and Harry goes still immediately. 

Louis started off tentatively, rolling his hips experimentally and delighting in all the emotions he could see swimming in Harry’s eyes. He leaned down, whimpering when the angle changed and bringing his lips to Harry’s. He didn’t kiss, just allowed them to breathe each other in.

“Please.” Harry begged, but Louis shook his head. 

“Don’t move.” He repeated, and Harry obeyed. 

Harry was big, but Louis reveled in the stretch. Enjoyed the feeling of being filled with a relish that surprised even himself. 

“Fuck, you feel good.” He sighed, slamming down harder than before. Harry’s eyes rolled up into his head, and Louis could feel his trembling thighs beneath him as he struggled to remain motionless. 

“You’re doing so well.” Louis praised, and Harry looked even more adrift then before. An anchor without a rope. Louis would be his rope. “So good for me, love.” 

Louis worked his hips in a figure eight, taking note of the way Harry liked it when he grinded down into him, forcing he cock even deeper inside. Harry also seemed to enjoy the way Louis would change pace without warning. How he would ride him at a gallop before slowing down to crawl. 

Louis pulled off almost completely, just leaving the head of Harry’s dick inside. The younger man’s eyes were so wide it was almost comical. He stayed like that for a while, torturing Harry with shallow thrusts and never sinking down all the way. Harry let out a continuous groan at the treatment, and Louis was beginning to wonder over the possibility of breaking him like this.

“Please.” Harry gasped again, and something about the way the boy begged would undoubtedly always tie Louis in knots. He decided to take pity on him.

“You can move now, Haz.” Louis whispered, giving him permission. Harry stayed still, as if he thought Louis was testing him, or playing a trick on him. Louis increased his speed, feeling that familiar pressure burning in the center of his abdomen and branching out to the base of his spine. He was practically bouncing on Harry’s lap, the sound of skin slapping skin a provocative soundtrack to their coupling. 

“Come on, babe.” Louis whined, feeling it was his turn to beg. “Fuck up.” He encouraged, giving Harry instructions instead of orders. Harry stayed stubborn. 

“M’close.” He explained, as if he had to hold back. 

“Me too, love. So close.” Louis assured, and Harry needed no further direction. His hips snapped up, meeting Louis’ almost violently as they writhed together, Harry’s hands moving to Louis’ hips and controlling their rhythm. Louis felt powerless and powerful at the same time. 

Harry’s hands slid down Louis arms, moving passed his elbows and beyond his wrists. He interlaced their fingers, pushing their hands back until they rested along the upper swell of Louis’ arse, effectively immobilizing his arms. The movement arched his back and changed the angle a bit. Harry’s cock rubbed more deeply into him, hitting that spot that made white spots burn brightly into his vision. 

“Harry?” Louis cried, feeling his orgasm rushing up on him.

“I’m here, babe.” The younger man soothed, sinking his teeth into Louis’ neck. “Let go for me.”

Louis trembled as his body was continually assaulted with pleasure. He was almost there. Could feel it within his grasp…

“C’mon, daddy.” Harry breathed into his skin, and Louis was done. His vision went from bright white to nothing, his entire body became taught like a string stretched too far and on the verge of snapping. He felt like he couldn’t stop coming, there was no touch of a hand to distract him and that had never fucking happened before. He’d never come untouched before. Didn’t even know it was possible. 

Once he came down a little, he could recognize the feeling of Harry moving inside him, the way he pumped up as he chased his own release. He was muttering nonsensical things against the sensitive lobe of Louis ear. 

“I didn’t know…had no idea how you could…fuck, Lou…do you even know what you look like? How good you feel?”

Harry rarely cussed, and to hear it started a fire to burn in Louis’ belly.

“Want you to come inside me.” He breathed, the sound of his voice surprising him. “Wanna feel you.”

Harry’s green eyes widened, and he gripped Louis closer, fucking into him and hitting his prostate on every single thrust. Louis cried with the pleasure he was forced to feel, and his still-hard cock twitched with another spurt of come as he felt what could only be another orgasm. 

Once he was able to slightly focus again, it was to the feeling of Harry leaving sloppy wet kisses along the column of his throat. 

“You’ve made a mess of me.” Louis sighed, feeling the tackiness of his release all over his stomach, and there was a distinct slick feeling leaking down his thighs. 

“You’ll pay me back in kind later, I’m sure.” Harry said easily, and it made Louis’ entire body shiver at the promise in it. 

They stayed like that for a long while, wrapped up in each other and enjoying the closeness. Louis was the first to break away, lifting himself up off of Harry’s lap delicately, unable to hide his smile over the way Harry didn’t want to stop touching him. 

“Come on. Let’s clean ourselves up before the others come back.”

“How do you propose we get the smell of sex out of here, then?” Harry asked with a cheeky grin and Louis couldn’t help but smack him on the bum. 

“We can burn a vanilla scented candle.” 

Harry threw his head back and laughed, his curls wild with it, and Louis felt so much for him he couldn’t hold it in. Harry seemed to take notice, because he wrapped Louis up in an embrace as he whispered the same thing over and over again.

“Me too, Lou. Me too. Always have. Always will.” 

“Always.” Louis inhaled.

-*-*-

“You never told me what you were going to ask for if you won the bet.” Louis says into the quiet of his bunk, pulling the younger man further into him so he’s able to feel Harry’s smile press solidly against his skin. 

“You already gave it to me.” 

Louis chuckles and buries his face into Harry’s hair, wrapping him up in the warmth from his body and the strength of his arms. 

“Sap.” He whispers fondly, and Harry laughs without inhibition. 

“Romantic.” He counters, and Louis can’t help but agree.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know if I need to add anything in the tags, and always comment about what you thought of it, yeah?


End file.
